The Price Of Trust

Myla POV:

At twenty-three, I knew exactly what I wanted: to marry the love of my life and start my own family. Today was my wedding day-a day I had dreamt of since I was a little girl.

I stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the lace of my wedding dress. My hands trembled, not with excitement but with a feeling I couldn't explain. I had dreamt of this moment for years -walking down the aisle to the man I loved, the man I was about to marry. Today was supposed to be perfect.

My fiancé, Damien Brooks, is the love of my life. We met three years ago, and it was love at first sight for the both of us. In a few hours, we will finally be husband and wife.

My breath hitched as I looked at my reflection. The dress was breathtaking, hugging my curves perfectly, with the train flowing behind me like soft waves. My dark hair was styled elegantly, framing my face, and the veil rested gently over my head. For a moment, I felt like a princess.

" Are you ready, darling?" my mother's voice interrupted, pulling me from my thoughts. Vanessa Calloway stood in the doorway, her eyes gleaming with joy. She wore a bright smile, though it trembled slightly as she fought back her tears.

I nodded, forcing a smile. " Ready as I'll ever be."

She stepped into the room, inspecting the dress. "It's beautiful, Myla. You look just like I did on my wedding day. Damien will be blown away when he sees you."

I swallowed hard, trying to push the knot of nervousness from my chest. " I just want everything to be perfect."

Vanessa reached out, adjusting the veil, her fingers gentle. " It will be, darling. Don't worry."

But as I stared at my reflection, a strange feeling settled over me. It wasn't my dress or the ceremony that made me scared-it was something deeper, a feeling in my guts that today was not going to unfold as planned. But what could possibly go wrong?

~~~

We arrived safely at the church. The wedding arrangements were in full swing. Guests were beginning to fill the church, the flowers were arranged in beautiful patterns, and soft music played in the background. The air was thick with excitement and anticipation.

My Father, a tall, handsome figure, walked beside me with a proud smile on his face. He held my hands, reassuringly, but his eyes flickered with a hint of nervousness. We both felt the tension; it had been building for days. I wish Cynthia, my best friend, was here, but she had traveled out of town for a business trip.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I made my way down the aisle. I glanced at the empty seats where Damien's parents- his father, Michael, and his mother, Susan- were supposed to sit in the front row, smiling proudly as they watched their son marry the love of his life. But they weren't there. I swept my gaze over the empty chairs again, fear creeping in instantly.

" Why aren't Damien's parents here?" I muttered under my breath, feeling uneasy.

My father noticed my hesitation and stepped closer. " It's strange," he admitted quietly. " I spoke to Damien's father last night. He said they'd be here on time."

" Did he say anything else?" I asked, my voice trembling.

" He sounded... distracted. But he didn't mention anything that would indicate they wouldn't show up today. You know how they are, Myla. They are always quiet, reserved, but never late."

I couldn't shake off the fear knotting in my stomach. Why haven't Damien's parents come? Michael Brooks had always been a man of his words- his punctuality was something I admired about him. So why did they disappear without a word?

"Did they know something I didn't?" I wondered, as fear slowly began to settle in.

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Damien's face. But he wasn't here either.

I stood at the altar, waiting, feeling the weight of the deafening silence pressing down on me. The guests whispered among themselves. The priest waited patiently, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Damien and his family were always punctual. So why haven't they shown up yet?

Minutes passed, and the tension in the air grew. My father, trying to keep up appearances, leaned in. " They'll be here soon. Calm down, Myla."

I forced a smile, but inside, the knot in my stomach tightened. I glanced at the wall clock - they were late. Very late. My heart hammered in my chest. Was something wrong? Were they having second thoughts?

Minutes turned into hours, and still, Damien didn't arrive.

" Damien, where are you?" I whispered under my breath, the question slipping out before I could even stop it.

But no one had an answer.

Finally the priest cleared his throat. " Shall we proceed?"

My chest tightened. " No," I whispered. "I can't."

I turned, glancing at my father. " Where's Damien? Why isn't he here yet?

He opened his mouth, but no words came. His face turned pale, his lips pressed into a thin line. The truth could no longer be denied. Damien and his family were no longer coming. My hands began to tremble, my fingers slipping nervously against the fabric of my dress.

Minutes turned into agonizing hours. Every tick of the clock was a hammer to my chest. The whispers among the guests grew louder. Why wasn't Damien here? Was he stuck in traffic? Was he hurt?

A thousand terrible thoughts raced through my mind.

I excused myself from the altar, my legs trembling as I walked toward the back of the church. The whispers grew louder, and I could feel every pair of eyes following me.

" Dad," I whispered, my voice barely audible, and overwhelmed by fear.

"Damien isn't coming. And mom... She's still not here."

My father, who had been trying to maintain his calm demeanor, furrowed his brows as he exchanged a glance with the ushers nearby. His jaw tightened. " I'll go find her," he said sharply, already taking a step toward the door.

" No," I interrupted, stepping in his path. " Dad, wait."

His eyes softened slightly, but his concern was obvious. " Myla, this is your wedding day. You shouldn't be running around like this. Let me handle it."

"Dad, please," I interrupted.

"Damien isn't here, and I need to find him. And mom's probably just running late."

"Myla..." He hesitated, his tone softening. "Are you sure? This is your wedding day. Let me-"

"I'm sure," I said, cutting him off again. "I have to do this."

He looked at me for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally sighed. "Fine." He handed me the keys, his grip lingering for a second. "Be careful. And call me if you find anything-anything at all."

"I will," I promised, though the knot in my stomach told me I wouldn't be calling with good news.

I stepped out of the church, the warm air outside feeling suffocating against my skin. Sliding into the car, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

Why hadn't Damien shown up? My mind raced, desperate to piece together a reason that didn't involve the worst.

I started the engine, the sound matching the rapid beat of my heart. Whatever was going on, I had to find him. I drove through the streets of the city to Damien's townhouse, each second of the journey felt like an eternity.

When I arrived at Damien's townhouse, my hands were shaking so violently, I almost couldn't unlock the front door. Finally, I managed to push it open.

" Damien?" I called softly, unsure of what to expect.

No answer.

My footsteps echoed as I entered the house, the place we had picked out together-the place I had imagined our future.

The silence was suffocating.

" Damien?" I called again, my voice breaking. Still, there was no reply.

I hurried up the staircase, each step echoed like the ticking of a time bomb. My eyes scanned the dimly lit hallway, but it was the noise from his bedroom that caught my attention.

A soft moan.

My heart stopped. No!. This isn't happening. My blood ran cold. I didn't bother to knock, I pushed open the door.

The moment I walked into the room, my heart felt like it was ripped apart.

There, in the dimly lit room, I saw my mother-Vanessa-on top of Damien,her hands gripping his shoulders, and her head thrown back in pleasure.

My breath was knocked out of my lungs.

My mother's mouth opened in a gasp, her fingers gripping Damien's hair as she rode him. Damien's face, the face that should have been standing at the altar, was contorted in pleasure.

The room seemed to blur around me as the crushing reality hit me hard.

A soft gasp escaped my lips, but neither of them stopped. Not until Vanessa turned her head, her eyes meeting mine.

My legs gave out as I stumbled back, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.

Vanessa's eyes flickered towards me and the time seemed to stop. There was no apology, no regret in her eyes.

I sobbed uncontrollably until my chest ached, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Tears spilled freely, blurring my vision.

This could not be real.

But it was.

" Mom... how could you?" I wailed, my voice hoarse with disbelief.

Vanessa, still straddling Damien, turned to face me. Her lips parted, but there was no shame in her eyes-just a coldness that froze me in place.

"You should have known better, Myla," my mother said, arching her eyebrows. "I've always wanted him. You were just a stepping stone."

My heart felt as if it had been brutally ripped from my chest. My mother - the woman who carried me for nine months, the one I would lay down my life for - and Damien, the only man I'd ever truly loved, had destroyed me. Their betrayal was a wound that consumed me.

I stood frozen in the doorway of Damien's bedroom, unable to move my eyes away from the scene that had shattered my life. My mother was still straddling him, her face showed no sign of shame or regret. While Damien had the audacity to smirk as if he had just won a lottery.

I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked off the veil from my hair and threw it to the ground. I tore my wedding dress, ripping it apart as anger consumed me. My legs became weak, barely able to hold my weight. "You were supposed to love me. Both of you."

" Love you?" Damien scoffed, leaning back against the pillows, completely unbothered by my presence. " Myla, do not be naive. I was never in love with you. I just wanted a taste, and now that I've had it. I'm done."

His words hit me like a punch to the chest. My knees went weak and I clutched the doorframe for support. "You're lying." I whispered, more to myself than to him. "This can't be real."

Damien chuckled darkly, running his hands through his messy hair. " Oh, it's real, sweetheart. And your mother? She's way better in bed than you could ever dream of been."

" Damien!" I screamed, my voice raw from pain. " How dare you? How could you betray me after three good years?"

" Enough, Myla, or whatever you call yourself." My mother's cold voice cut through the air, shutting me up completely.

She climbed off Damien, her movements effortless, as if she haven't just destroyed me. She adjusted her gown, smoothing out the wrinkles. " You are embarrassing yourself."

"Embarrassing myself?" I gasped, my chest tight, struggling to catch my breath. "You've destroyed everything! You... you're my mother! How could you do this?"

Vanessa shrugged, her gaze as cold as her voice. "I've always wanted Damien. Myla. You were just a silly girl living in a fantasy. It's time you grew up."

My vision blurred as tears flooded my eyes. The woman standing before me wasn't my mother. She was a stranger, cruel, and heartless.

" I... hate... you." I choked out, my voice breaking. "Both of you. I hate you."

But they didn't care. Vanessa turned to Damien. Her lips curving into a sly smile. "Let's go. Darling. We've wasted enough time here."

Damien slid out of bed, putting on his shirt with an infuriating smirk. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Myla."

"You two deserve each other," I spat, my voice laced with anger. " You're disgusting. Both of you."

Vanessa crossed her arms tightly around her chest. " Enough, Myla. Take what dignity you have left and leave this minute."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I refuse to let them see me break. Without another word, I stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.

~~~

Outside, the heat of the sun was scorching. With tears in my eyes, I slid into the car, fumbling for my phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed father's number.

"Dad." I cried as soon as he picked up. "Cancel the wedding. Send everyone home."

"Myla. what's going on? Are you okay?" His voice was laced with panic.

" I can't..." My words broke into sobs. "Please, just cancel it. I can't do this any longer."

"Myla. talk to me. What happened?" He asked, but I couldn't explain.

The pain was too much to bear. I hung up and ignited the engine. The dress I had once adored now felt suffocating, a cruel reminder of what I had witnessed.

The street blurred as I drove recklessly, crashing into Streetlights, tears clouding my vision. I could hear people screaming and shouting for me to stop, but I didn't care. I couldn't go back to my father or the wedding venue. I couldn't face the guests, the pitying looks, or the whispered gossip.

I didn't even notice the car in front of me until it was too late. The tires squealed, and the crash of metal brought me back to reality. I had collided with a sleek, black expensive SUV.

"Oh, great," I muttered bitterly, stepping out of my car. The wedding dress remnants fluttered around me, making me look even more messed up.

I walked toward the SUV, intending to apologize quickly and leave. The passenger's door of the SUV flew open, and a tall, handsome man stepped out. He had a piercing blue eyes and a confident charm that turned heads wherever he went.

As he reached up to remove his sunglasses, everything else faded away.

It was him.

Jaxon Brooks.

My boss.

The man I hated more than anyone else on this planet. His face were etched with concern, his tailored suit was spotless despite the chaos around us.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath, cursing my luck.

"Myla?" His voice was deep, laced with surprise.

Jaxon's piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and his expression shifted from confusion to surprise, then concern.

"Myla?" he called again. "Why are you dressed like that? What happened?"

I glared at him, anger boiling beneath my skin. "None of your business," I snapped, turning back toward my car.

"Don't even think about it." He said, grabbing my arm before I could slid into the car.

"You hate me. I know that. And I don't care. You're my secretary, and I demand to know what's going on with you."

"Let go of me, Jaxon," I hissed, trying to yank my arm free.

Instead, he stepped closer, his hand gentle yet firm. " I'm your boss, Myla. And I refuse to let you drive off like this. Look at yourself-you're a mess. What happened?"

I opened my mouth to lash out at him, but his next words stopped me cold.

"Hey, talk to me," he murmured, his hand moving to cup my face. "You're clearly in pain. Talk to me."

The tenderness in his voice shattered the walls I had tried so desperately to build. Without thinking, I collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I hated him, hated everything about him-but at that moment, I needed someone to hold tight.

Jaxon wrapped his arms around me, his touch surprisingly comforting. "Hey," he said softly, his voice steady. "It's okay. Let it out."

I cried harder, clutching his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping me strong. My mother had ruined everything. Damien had betrayed me. My world had shattered, and I had no idea how to put it back together.

Jaxon didn't say a word, just held me tightly and let me cry. When the sobs finally subsided, reality came crashing back. I was hugging him. My boss. The man I couldn't stand.

I pushed him away immediately, my cheeks burning with shame. "Don't touch me!" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. "I don't need your pity."

"Myla..."

"No!" I interrupted, pointing a finger at his chest. "You think you can just come in and act like you care? You don't know me, Jaxon. You know nothing about me."

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "You're right. I don't know everything about you. But I do know that you're hurting, and I'm not going to let you leave without telling me what's wrong."

"Watch me," I muttered, turning back to my car.

"If you leave, I'll call the police and report the havoc you caused on the road."Jaxon said, his voice icy and sharp.

I froze, my anger boiling over. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," he said, arching his eyebrows. "One call from me, and you'll be locked up forever."

Tears welled up again, and I clenched my fists, hating him even more for backing me into a corner. "You want to know what's wrong?" I yelled, spinning around to face him. "My mother and my fiancé..." My voice cracked, and the rest of the words refused to come.

Instead, I crumpled into tears again, unable to hold back the emotions. Jaxon stepped forward, his expression softening as he drew me into his arms once more.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Let it out, Myla. You don't have to do this alone."

For the first time in hours, I felt peace. Jaxon may have been the last person I wanted to lean on, but in that moment, he was the only one there.

"Come on," he said gently, guiding me toward his car. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

I didn't resist as he helped me into the passenger seat. He turned to one of his workers, who had arrived on the scene, and instructed them to take my car for repairs.

As the car pulled away, I stared out the window, tears streaming silently down my face. My world had turned upside down-but for now, I'd allowed myself to become vulnerable, even if it was with the man I despised most.

~~~~

The car ride was silent. The hum of the engine was the only sound that could be heard. Jaxon didn't say a word. His piercing blue flickered towards me occasionally, but he remained quiet. The silence was unbearable. I wanted him to yell, scold me, demand answers-anything but not this suffocating silence.

"You don't have to help me," I muttered, my voice breaking through the tension. "I don't need your pity."

He didn't respond. Instead, he pulled into the grand entrance of a luxurious hotel. It's towering glass exterior sparkled under the sun.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice hoarse from crying.

Jaxon parked the car and turned to me. "Because you need a safe place to sort yourself out. And secondly, because you look like you're seconds away from self-destruction."

I glared at him, anger bubbling beneath my skin. "You don't get to judge me."

"I'm not judging," he replied calmly. "I'm helping. Whether you like it or not."

Before I could argue, he stepped out of the car, his presence commanding as he walked around to my side. He opened the door and extended a hand.

"Come on," he said, his tone firm yet gentle.

I hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand. Everything in me screamed to reject his help, but I was too broken, too exhausted to resist. I placed my trembling hand in his, and he guided me out of the car.

The moment we entered the hotel, cameras flashed, and reporters crowded around. Questions flew in every direction.

Mr. Brooks! Who is she?"

"Is this your fiancée?"

"Are you two married?"

"Stay close," he said firmly, holding my hands.

Jaxon gave a sharp nod to one of his staff. "Get security to clear them out," he ordered. Within minutes, the press was dispersed, leaving the entrance quiet once more.

"I hate this," I whispered.

Jaxon glanced at me, his expression softening again. "I know."

As soon as the press left , the atmosphere in the lobby shifted. The polished floor gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier. Jaxon walked ahead , his hand resting lightly but possessively on my lower back, guiding me inside.

The staff at the entrance immediately straightened, as though they'd rehearsed.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks," they chorused, their voices laced with a mix of respect and fear.

He didn't stop, barely lifting a hand in a lazy wave, his eyes steady as he led me towards the elevator. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew attention without effort.

But it wasn't just him they were looking at.

I felt the weight of their stares, the shift in the atmosphere as their curious eyes moved toward me. Whispers buzzed too low to catch.

"Who is she?" one of the receptionists murmured, leaning toward her colleague.

"She's not his usual type," someone else whispered.

"Maybe a new mistress?" another whispered, not soft enough to escape my ears.

My feet became cold, a mixture of embarrassment and fear. My steps faltered for a second, but Jaxon's hand tightened slightly, steadying me without looking back.

"You're with me now," he said quietly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Ignore them.They're just curious. And maybe a little jealous."

The elevator rang softly as we stepped inside. The doors closed, and I could feel the slow rise as we made our way up. When it finally stopped, the doors opened to a floor that felt different-exclusive. Jaxon motioned for me to follow as he led me out, guiding me to a suite and opening the door.

"Stay here until you're ready to leave," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll send someone with clothes and anything else you'll need."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood in the middle of the suite, stunned. The room was beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a beautiful view of the city. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by elegant furniture and soft lighting.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, pulling out my phone. Fifty missed calls from my father. My thumb scrolled over the call button, "I can't explain anything right now," I whispered, tossing the phone aside.

I moved to the window, staring out at the bustling city below. Tears welled up in my eyes as memories of the day replayed in my mind. It was too much to bear.

A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I wiped my face and opened it to find a young woman holding a tray.

"Mr. Brooks sent these," she said with a polite smile. She handed me a neatly folded dress, nightwear, and a tray of food with a bottle of wine.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely audible.

She nodded and left, leaving me alone again.

I placed the items on the table and took a hot shower, letting the water wash away the remnants of my ruined day. Dressed in the comfortable clothes provided, I returned to the window, the bottle of wine in my hand.

The first sip burned, but I didn't care. I drank until the pain in my chest faded, and everything felt blurry.

My phone rang, pulling me out of the moment. The screen lit up with Cynthia's name. I stared at it for a moment before answering, my voice already heavy with wine.

"Hello?" I muttered, leaning back against the window.

"Myla! Where the hell are you?" Cynthia's voice echoed through the phone as I picked up, the wine bottle wobbling in my hand.

"I'm here... or somewhere." I mumbled. giggling at my own words.

"Are you drunk?" Cynthia asked sharply.

"Drunk? Pfft. Nah." I hiccupped. "Just... hydrated. The wine's basically a fancy grape juice."

"Okay. what's going on? Where are you now? Everyone's calling me.."

"No wedding!" I interrupted, my words rumbling out.

" Why??" she asked.

"Because Damien's too busy banging my mother." I replied immediately, patiently waiting for her response.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could almost hear Cynthia struggling to process my words. I laughed bitterly stumbling back onto the couch.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cindy asked, her voice sharp.

"Exactly what I said Cindy... Damien and my mother," I replied, crossing my legs tightly on the couch.

" Ouch, it's so hot down there," I mumbled under my breath, feeling this hot sensation between my thighs.

"Myla. stop drinking. We need to talk "

"Talk?" I cut her off. my voice rising. "No. Cindy, I don't wanna talk. I wanna... I wanna feel something that isn't betrayal."

Cynthia hesitated. "Myla..."

"You know what I need?" I interrupted again, my tone switching from bitter to daring. "I need a fuck right now, Cindy. A hot, meaningless, mind-blowing orgasm. Think you can arrange that. Even if it's just for one night."

" Have you ever fucked a man before?" Cindy asked...